


cactus in the valley

by the knife (midgardsormr)



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14278872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgardsormr/pseuds/the%20knife
Summary: —tell me that you still recall my name.(2013)





	cactus in the valley

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from my old fanfiction.net account
> 
> everything's pretty much the same except for a few spelling fixes. song used (title, summary and ..idk subtitles i guess) is "cactus in the valley" by lights

_**i. wipe the mark of sadness from my face** _

She is tending to her flowers—their children—when she hears about his death.

It’s Tseng who tells her. Though she doesn’t say anything or look up from her small task, though she doesn’t even turn her head to acknowledge him, he thankfully doesn’t repeat himself, and she hears him leave, footsteps light so as not to disturb the peace of her broken church. But she knows he saw everything—the hitch in her breath, the trembling of her hands, the riot in her head. There’s no need for an echo.

Because she already knew.

 

**_ii. show me that your love will never change_ **

She was tending to her flowers—their children—when she heard about his death.

It was the rain who told her, and no amount of disbelief could shake away the feeling that it was true. She looked up at the chalky sky and begged it to say something, anything to prove her wrong. She heard no answer, but when it rained harder on her sunshine garden, she knew she’d never see his clear blue skies again, and today’s clouds were the first of colorless days.

She tried to remember his shade of blue, but _nonono, that wasn’t it; it was bluer, it was—_

She lost herself trying to piece together everything she had of him, and instead, she cried over letters she wasn’t sure he was getting (that he’d never get now), over his promise to fulfill every single one of her wishes (that he’d never do now), over the garden of worlds they created—and of all these things, the flowers were all she had.

And she didn’t even want them anymore.

She got to her knees pulled their dreams—his and hers—apart. The places he said he’d take her to, the flowers he said they’d grow all around the city, the real sky he said he’d show her—she tore them all down and let the petals scatter around her. She eyes shifted to the still-standing patches of the garden. Her hand slipped as she reached for the flowers there, and she lay on the ground, mud and sweat and rain seeping into her dress. Her flowers, gone.

No more sunshine garden.

If she couldn’t have him, then she didn’t want anything that reminded her of him. But as she lay in the mud, a memory flashed, and though it only lasted less than a moment, she remembered. She reached for the pink ribbon in her hair and pulled it off. Faded pink stained with dirt, she clung to it, and she folded into herself. No more skies. No more sunshine garden. The rain stopped, and she cried harder.

What was a garden of suns or ribbons of rain without a sky?

 

_**iii. if my yesterday is a disgrace** _

She is tending to her flowers—their children—when she finally accepts his death.

He tells her himself that he’s gone, and she can finally believe it without pushing away her mother and Tseng and others who only tried to help her. She smiles, feeling a little proud of herself—and a little lighter—while she tucks the last batch of seeds underneath a warm blanket of soil. Careful not to get any on her pink dress, she dusts the earth off her hands as she stands. She looks at the light from the hole above her flowerbed and prays for a little rain to pull their dreams—his and hers—back up from the dead.

When the light rain comes, she says goodbye and leaves, basket of flowers in hand.


End file.
